


With the Utmost Discretion

by orphan_account



Series: Insatiable [6]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, F/M, Femdom, Hand Jobs, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, Pegging, Prostitution, Prostitution Roleplay, Roleplay, Sex while Standing Up, Wall Sex, excessive use of the words 'whore' and 'milady' lmao, feat magical viagra, he's gonna be WRECKED and he's gonna LIKE IT, im gonna exhaust every fucking kink on claude, is there a tag for that????, some very brief 69
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-07 03:00:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20302339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Hidden away in a corner of a street found far from the main town square is an establishment called The Joyful Pegasus, known for its wily and seductive workers whose mastery of the art of pleasure and discretion have given them quite the reputation of being the Lords and Ladies of the night.Claude gets an idea like he always does, friends are visited and he gets his ass fucked by a well-paying "client."





	With the Utmost Discretion

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by my sis even tho she a big dumb dumb.
> 
> I'm also glad that we as a society have come together to agree Claude is a sub. Bless you and amen.

Claude gives a nobleman whose name he didn’t bother to memorize a fake smile, one that he likes to think he’s perfected in the years he has to deal with this incessant babbling and complaints. This time it was complaints about farmers apparently not paying enough taxes. With the way some of these people seem so intent on complaining about every little thing, he wonders if they complained about their mother’s breast milk when they were just suckling babes. 

_ Hard enough to imagine them as children. They probably came out of the womb as they are now. _

He used to think nobility was a court of snakes, silver tongued sneaks who manipulated and schemed, threatening to eat you whole if you dared turned your back on them.

Now, he thinks of them as a gaggle of geese, birds too eager to squawk over one another when his hand feeds them breadcrumbs. 

Perhaps he is jaded. But he’s been jaded on the nobility for much longer than he’s been king.

He gives a huff of laughter of fake amusement for the nobleman’s benefit. It seems he mellowed out from the nonsense he was complaining after Claude insisted the issue would be resolved. It calmed him down enough for him to tell a bad joke. 

_ Just smile and laugh. _

The real bad joke was that he knows the farmers in this jurisdiction actually have been paying their taxes. This man wants them to pay more. He’s trying to hide that fact by laundering the money for himself and trying to manipulate Claude in bringing more guards to pressure them in paying more.

Claude’s sending more guards to the area.

But not for the reason the nobleman is thinking.

He’s already thinking of the speech he’ll give when he publically arrests the idiot who made a piss poor attempt at hiding his crimes. 

Lorenz was all too happy to send his own aid on the matter, to sneak in a trustworthy guard to go undercover and obtain the literal documentation of the farmers paying their dues. Claude knows he helped because he wanted another noble who could potentially threaten House Gloucester eliminated. It’s a bit cruel of Lorenz, if anything, but one needs to be a bit cruel to keep their House afloat.

After the meeting Claude sits down to rest his eyes, finally finding some reprieve from a long day. He daydreams, thinking about his time growing up. He didn’t have many friends, let alone many people who he could consider his allies, but there were some.

For as haughty nobles can be and how they often look down on commoners, Claude had often found the greatest kindness in the street urchins he sometimes played with. Beggars and thieves often had a better code of ethics than the higher-ups who apparently pledge oaths to protect the little people. 

Claude remembers some of the prostitutes he had known. All sad and destitute people, but they all held a unique wisdom to them. Knowledgeable of the world and the type of people who inhabit it. Selling fake feelings and comfort, they often were his best teachers when it came to the art of manipulation.

He knows it would have been unlikely, but he wonders that if his father didn’t suddenly decide to take him in one day as an heir he might have become a high-class prostitute, whispering sweet nothings in the ears of nobles and taking them for their money’s worth. 

He eyes shoot open. He should probably feel bad, fondly remembering some of his past with people who had helped make him who he is today only for him to be bombarded with thoughts of _ wow that’s hot. _

Sometimes he hates the ideas he gets. 

But he’s going to try it out anyway.

-

Once, whenever he would have to come to this establishment he did so in secret. In a disguise. Now, he can enter it without causing too much of a controversy, because everyone knows it’s for business rather than pleasure. 

A brothel.

One of the first things both he and Byleth had done after being crowned monarchs was legalize prostitution. It was something that was a constant thought for him when he had realized his dream of a world without discrimination. Sex workers were at the bottom of the barrel, the bottom of the rung in the stratification of society. The majority of prostitutes were individuals born without a Crest, more often than not are forced into this work and made infertile through invasive medical procedures without their consent. Legalizing their work made it safer for them, and the brutality often placed upon them from dangerous clients had gradually decreased over time.

It took time, Goddess did it take some time, but the stigma surrounding prostitution has finally begun to lessen. The workers were naturally wary of both he and Byleth, being individuals in position of authority. It was also no surprise they didn’t trust the local guards and the legal system considering how it had utterly failed them in the past. But with time and effort, with rebuilding multiple brothels so they weren’t a complete pigsty, creating a new system in which sex workers could pick and choose which clients they’d take on with the right to refuse them at any time as well as having a dedicated contingent of guards rotating between patrolling the streets and protecting the interior of brothels from clients who still thought they could get away with anything; and most of all making it so this was a job one could _ choose _ to be a part of and be _ fucking safe _while doing it. 

Many nobles were against putting so much resources in protecting mere prostitutes, thinking it _ absurd _to give them the same rights as any other worker. 

It was only when said ‘mere prostitutes’ started to trust Claude and Byleth and came forward to them to tell them their own stories did the reason become clear: Legalizing prostitution incriminated _ innumerable _ nobles, with many of them already being married and there were more extreme cases of nobility being arrested for assault and rape. 

_ Good, _ Claude had thought as the first batch of arrests were made after an investigation led by Catherine yielded evidence of their crimes, _ Let them know that this is no longer something that will be tolerated. _

Now, the brothels that were rebuilt and given upgrades were quite lavish looking establishments. They’re luxurious for clients with sleek interiors, red and gold cushions and ambient lighting. The prostitutes who originally roamed these once decrepit halls are no longer there, they were individuals with stories of harrowing abuse and inspiring survival who were forced in this line of work due to debts most of the time. The vast majority of them had their debts paid by a _ mysterious _ and _ anonymous _benefactor with their abusers jailed. Now these halls are filled with individuals who were there mostly by choice. But Claude would always return every and now to make sure the workers were comfortable and enjoying themselves, opting to see for his own eyes rather than letting someone else do it and report back to him. Some of them had eventually become some of his closest friends. 

Entering the brothel, called _ The Joyful Pegasus _, Claude is immediately approached by one of the workers. Before the young man can do his usual greeting and spiel of ‘what would you like?’ he gives Claude a grin that reaches his ears. 

“Claude!” he feels strong arms embrace him in a tight hug, “Er, your majesty! What brings you here? I didn’t think you’d do your usual check-up for at least another month.”

Claude pulls away from the hug and taps the man on the shoulder, “Damasus, my friend. It’s good to see you’re doing well. No, I’m here for a different sort of business. I was hoping to get your… expertise on a matter.” Damasus was a young brunette with light crimson eyes, he’s got a similar body-type as Claude and apparently quite popular with a certain crowd for his more masochistic tendencies. 

Damasus smiles, “You’re lucky. I was about to end my shift before thinking you were a potential last minute client. I’ll get dressed in something decent and we can talk in one of the unused rooms, yeah? I’ll get us some wine.”

The room Claude is eventually led to is a baronial one. It’s furnished with beautiful old faded tapestry panels bathed in low light and ormolu ornaments. It was big, with a carpet that boasted intricate geometric patterns, a coffee table with two cushioned chairs and a large heart shaped bed that could apparently rotate through some smart mechanical engineering. 

Clearly something meant for the richer clients. 

Damasus places Claude’s small glass of wine on the table before casually flopping on the oversized bed, bouncing once. “So, what brings Mr. Majesty here?” Then, he sits up, a look of concern suddenly littering his charming face, “You’re not on another investigation are you? Is someone hurt?”

“No,” Claude waves a hand at him, “Nothing of the sort. If there was something like that going on be rest assured that I wouldn’t be here. I’d be sticking an arrow down someone’s throat if Catherine or Byleth didn’t get to them before me.”

Damasus visibly relaxes, and lies back down on his side, his head propped up by an arm. 

Claude continues, “I was hoping you—”

He’s interrupted by the doors swinging open with a large _ bang _when it hits the wall and before he can turn around he hears a voice he’s well-acquainted with at this point.

“Claaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaude~! My buddy ol’ pal!” He’s greeted by a lean blonde with emerald eyes even more piercing than his own, a man who has at least four piercings on each ear. 

“Flavian! Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Another tight hug is exchanged. When they seperate Flavian takes his seat next to Damasus, the other worker looking him over. 

“You’re still wearing your work attire, man. Are you still on shift?”

Flavian blows a raspberry, “I’m sure having a meeting with the _ King— _” he emphasizes the word by stretching his arms out, “—is a good enough reason to miss out on a client or two, heh. Besides, I just finished with a regular and she tired me out. This is a well-earned break as far as I’m concerned.”

Claude huffs a laugh before sipping more of his wine and taking his seat on one of the chairs in front of them. Flavian leans in and smirks, “Lemme guess, you and the missus finally changed your minds on my little proposal, huh, _ huh _?” He suggestively wiggles his eyebrows. 

Rather than huffing, Claude barks a laugh this time. 

“I’m afraid not, Flavian. I’m still, ah, what was it you called me? Byleth-sexual? Yeah. Afraid I’m still happy with my monogamy.” 

Flavian pouts at his proposed threesome being declined for not the first time. He leans back and Damasus takes the opportunity to speak. 

“_ Anyway. _What was you wanted to talk about?”

Claude shifts in his seat slightly, he knows there’s no point in tiptoeing in the subject. Afterall, these men’s entire job was sex. In hindsight this will probably be one of the least weird requests they’ll have.

“I want to roleplay with Byleth. With me being a prostitute, so can I borrow one of your outfits?” 

He sees brief surprise written on both their faces before being replaced with a mixture of understanding and mischief. Damasus is about to speak when Flavian talks over him, his expression positively _ gleeful, _ “You can borrow the entire _ building _if you want!”

That gives both Claude and Damasus pause, and Damasus looks as though he’s going to retort and disagree with the notion, before seemingly changing his mind.

“Actually… That could work. You can take the one day of the week we’re closed. I’m sure the proprietor would be happy to give you the keys or leave it open.” Then he gives a lazy smile, “For a price, of course.”

Claude nods, “Naturally I’d pay if I were to use one of your rooms.” Then he doesn’t look so certain. “I hadn’t really intended to rent a room, let alone the entire building. Just thought you guys could tell me how I’m supposed to act and do it in the privacy of our own room, yeah?”

“Pshhh,” Flavian grunts and then smirks, “You should know, it’s all about ambiance Claude! You might as well go above and beyond if you’re going to roleplay.” Then, he leans in and whispers as if he’s letting Claude in on a dirty secret, “Besides, we’re all about _ discretion _ here. You’ll be fine. No one will know.”

Claude finishes the last of his wine. “I’ll… think about it. Right now I just want to know what I should… expect, I guess? What character do you think I should play?”

“That’s a hard question to answer,” Damasus says, “It depends on the client. Sometimes they want it slow and sensual, and sometimes they want it rough and hard.” He flicks his wrist, “I’ve had some clients who don’t even want to sex but rather just want to cuddle… Which is kinda sad now that I think of it.”

Flavian gives an exaggerated groan, “Wow, Dama, way to be completely useless.” He turns to Claude, “You’re a guy selling his body to a presumably rich as fuck client. Byleth’s got money coming out of her asshole! Kiss that ass, butter up to her like this is your last gig because she’ll pay you enough for retirement. Before you get down and dirty make sure you show off your body as much as you can, tease her with it and make her thirsty for it, show her _ the goods. _”

Flavian suddenly slaps his knee as if he thought of a brilliant idea. He stands up to walk one of the nightstands beside the bed, and rummages through the drawer. When he finds what he’s looking for he throws it at Claude, who catches it. 

Inspecting it, he sees it’s a small bag. Opening the bag reveals it’s some nondescript looking seeds. He looks at Flavian with a questioning look, and the sex worker nods at him.

“That’s for when you finish and need to get hard again. Obviously it’s something the guys around here need.”

Ah.

But Flavian’s not done yet. “There’s every toy you’ll ever need in the closet. They’re cleaned after every session. We’re professional fuckers, afterall.” That makes Damasus roll his eyes. 

Claude smiles, “Thank you, both of you. I’ll think about the offer about renting the building.” He turns to face Damasus, “I asked before, can I borrow your work attire?”

The man in question nods, “Yeah. I’ll make sure it’s clean as long as you wash it after you’re done.” He smirks, “Do you want it because we’re the same size or because it’s gold?”

“Heh.” Claude snickers and stands. “Because it would make me look like a professional fucker.”

-

The next day, he’s sparring with Byleth. She had returned from an excursion to the monastery at Derdriu to help with the reorganization and the changes of the Knights of Seiros. 

Now back, she seems distracted. The swings of her swords are oddly unpracticed when normally she wouldn’t have any trouble planting him on his ass. 

“What’s the matter, By?” he keeps his tone casual despite worry starting to cloud his face, “Distracted by my roguishly handsome features?” He pats at his chest, “Don’t worry, it’s a common problem for me too.”

She puts the tip of the sword on the ground, putting some of her weight on it to lean on the large weapon. “Honestly, I’d say we’re both pretty distracted today. You missed all your shots despite how poorly I’ve been doing.”

“So you admit you _ were _blinded by my roguishly handsome face!” he laughs, “Oh By, you really know what to say to a guy.” 

Then, he purrs, “And I can admit I’ve been seduced by your icy stare. I think I’ve lost count how many times you’ve rendered me a bad shot just by looking at me.”

She tilts her head, a small smile gracing her usually stoic face. “Thanks for the boost of confidence. Now, let’s get to the business at hand. You know as well as I do that word get around quick, Claude.” He knows she doesn’t miss how he’s been staring at her lips the entire time she’s been speaking.

Ah. Naturally gossip would have gotten to her. He smirks.

“Participating in dinnertime gossip, are we? No worries, I’m sure it’s all grand fables they’re sprouting.” His expression softens as he gets more serious, “I just visited some good friends.”

She nods, “I know. But you must understand that there are nobles who don’t trust and know you like I do. Hungry to light a fire even though it’s pointless. The second I came back from the monastery I was accosted by a bunch of people I didn’t even know lamenting how you visited a brothel. It’s _ very _annoying.” She tilts her head and her grin widens, her expression reminding Claude of the cat that got the cream, “I’d ask if you’re doing your usual check ups but I know you weren’t. I can take a guess on what you’re scheming about.”

“Oh!” he says as if he’s lamenting the loss of a loved on, “Must you read me so easily? I was going to surprise.. well, heh, more like ambush you with something new like I usually do!” 

She shrugs, and then sheathes her sword before walking off. 

“This is reminding me a lot of your cat scheme.” Being reminded of their last game makes him giddy, “But, I’ll leave it at that so there’s some element of surprise. I hope you’ll show me a good time like usual, Claude.”

-

After his talk with Byleth he decides he _ will _rent the entire building. It’s the dead of night with barely anyone walking the streets. He had paid the proprietor and was given the keys, but not before being assured constantly that no one will know of their new escapade. 

After giving his thanks, he steps into the building. It feels weird for a brothel to not have a single soul in it, but this is the one day of the week it’s closed. He quickly makes his way to the same room where he had spoken with Damasus and Flavian in. After immediately lighting some candles and disrobing, he looks at the bed to find Damasus’s work outfit neatly folded on the middle of it. 

All prostitutes wear a tabard and nothing else. He puts on the sleeveless jerkin that reaches just above his knees and only covers his front and back. He appraises himself in the mirror. This being a higher class establishment, the tabard can only be described as fancy despite it being revealing. The sides of his body is completely uncovered except for the criss-crossing of small golden chains that keep the garment in place. The juxtaposition of the coldness of the chains and the heat of his body gives him goosebumps. The tabard is gold, save for the intricate white vector floral pattern that dances around the whole outfit. 

Taking a glance at the coffee table he sees a note. Picking it up he reads a simple message written in messy, impatient handwriting. 

“_ Good luck!” _

It’s accompanied by a poorly drawn penis. 

_ Must have been Flavian. _

After he crumbles the note and throws it to the side, he spots a wine bottle with two glasses. They really went all the way with this. He’ll have to buy their favourite take-outs some time. 

He’ll pour her wine later, for now, he’ll sit on the bed and wait. There’s a chill in the air from a slightly opened window. His excitement intensifies every chilled sensation he feels brush over his skin. His nipples harden, pressing back against his tabard, it almost feels as though he’s being continuously poked at chest. He had scrawled his own letter for her on their bed, simply stating that tonight is the night and telling her to come to The Joyful Pegasus. 

He ruminates over which position he should be in for when she enters. Maybe lazily lounge across the bed, kind of like a cat? Perhaps he should lie on his belly with one of his calves in the air, and a rose in his mouth? 

The second pose makes him laugh because it sounds so ridiculous. 

He has to try it.

So he does, he takes one of the many roses in a vase and lays on his stomach. He bends a knee to lift a calf up and puts the rose in his mouth. He’s probably the picture of the main love interest in a bad erotica novel. 

He lies there. Waiting. He runs through several scenarios in his head, thinking about the different roles Byleth could potentially take up. Will she be a pompous noble hiding a big secret from her family? An eccentric peddling merchant who wants to test out the new toys she’s got in stock? An angry virgin who wants her cherry popped? Regardless of what persona she’ll choose he knows she’ll be assertive and domineering.

And he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

But with this chill in the air he thinks he just wants some warm hands now. He’s about to stand and close the window when he hears the main entrance opening before closing. His thundering heartbeat almost sounds deafening in his ears when he hears the walking approach the door of his room. He’s suddenly afraid it might be someone else because it doesn’t really… _ sound _like Byleth’s footsteps. It sounds heavier and Claude begins devising a plan to throw the vase on the person’s head to make them unconscious and—

The door opens.

It’s Byleth.

And she’s wearing full armour. Squinting he sees it’s armour of the Knights of Seiros.

_ Is… Is she borrowing Catherine’s get-up? She is! _

Quickly remembering his role, he gives a toothy smirk with the rose in between his teeth. 

“Why, hello there Milady.” 

She gives him a steely expression before closing the door and moving towards the coffee table, the clanking of her armour reverberating across the room. “I paid a pretty penny for you. I’ve been told you’re the best.” 

Claude spits out the rose and stands to pour out wine for Byleth, but she stops him. Giving her a quizzical look, she speaks. “You must understand that in my line of work we don’t usually accept drinks from people we don’t know.”

He gives a scandalized noise. “Milady! How do you expect me to uphold my reputation of being the best whore in this business if I drugged my clients?” Then, he gives her a sly and seductive look, “I only play dirty tricks when you want me to. Otherwise—” he suddenly stops speaking when he finally remembers an important detail. Byleth knows. She fucking _ knows _ that one of his favourite novels is a love story between a prostitute and a knight. The knight is a stern and intense woman whereas the prostitute is jovial and carefree man. The knight, for all intents and purposes, is a complete bitch at first, but eventually she mellows out and barriers are broken down. It’s a forbidden love story about transcending class and stigma and he’s re-read the story at least five times. 

He’s taken out of his stupor when he sees Byleth’s quirked eyebrows and her genuine confusion as to why he suddenly stopped speaking. He swallows thickly to stop himself from squealing out a sappy _ I love you _because he figured out that she’s doing something he’s always wanted to do but never mentioned. “—I… I don’t bite.” 

Her expression becomes steely as she goes back into character.

“Regardless, no wine.” He puts the wine bottle down with a pout, and she circles around him. 

He smirks, “Appraising the goods, Milady?”

He feels a finger graze over his shoulder, going around it before trailing his back over the tabard. She stops directly behind him. 

“It’s a good thing you don’t work on the streets, whore,” that gets a shiver out of him, “or else you’d be quite chilly.”

It takes a lot of effort to keep his breathing even. “Well, I’m a bit chilly now. How about we warm each other up?” He feels the same finger on his back go up and down the side of his torso, going over the small chains and touching his ribs.

“Tell me about your clients. What sorts of people fuck a whore like you?” Her voice is raspy and harsh, almost trapping him with how it forces him to stay still.

“What’s there to say? There’s Phoebe, the blacksmith. Eulalia, the carriage driver. A favourite of mine is Ione who’s a bard but she’s got a terrible singing voice.” 

The finger on his ribs disappears and he feels a hand scrape his scalp before making a tight grip on his hair and pulling back sharply, making him gasp and whine. Her breath tickles his ears and neck, “I thought this establishment was supposed to be _ discreet. _” 

He blows a breath. “They don’t pay well enough for me to be discreet. I know you’ve paid a fair amount, you’ll be fine, _ Milady. _”

Her hand still grips his hair tightly when she forces him to turn around and unceremoniously shoves him on the bed so he’s laying on his stomach. She leans down so that her body is on top of them, both arms on either side of his head like a cage. The cold from her metal armour seeps through his thin tabard. 

“For someone as popular as you,” she growls, “You’re not impressing me very much.” 

Claude nervously shifts his body with what little space he’s given. “Well, I guess I need some punishment then, yeah?”

Then, just because he’s having too much fun in his predicament, he adds, “And I’m popular because I’m a good fuck, not because I’m discreet.” And to add more fuel to the fire: “So about you hurry up and fuck me, you dull moron?” 

Before he can even blink the weight on his back disappears and two hands grab his ankles. He’s rudely pulled off the bed and he doesn’t bother hiding the undignified yelp that comes out of his mouth when he lands flat on the floor. The hand reappears on his scalp and grabs at his hair and forces him on his knees. Byleth leans in close enough he’s sure she can hear his rapid heartbeat. 

“You’ve got a smart mouth on you for a whore,” her grip tightens, “I think someone should fuck some manners into you.”

She turns her wrist and forces Claude to turn around again. When she lets him go she catches his chin with her index finger and thumb to make him look up at her, “Undress me.”

“Gladly, Milady.”

He begins undoing the ridiculous number of straps of her armour and he’s only vaguely aware that he keeps wetting his lips with his tongue every five seconds. 

He’s sure he looks like an excitable pup doing its best to please its master.

When he’s finally, _ finally, _ able to get the damn armour off he takes a moment to appreciate the familiar sight in front of him. He knows every curve by heart, and has committed every inch of toned muscle to memory. It takes every ounce of his self-control not to whimper out a pathetic _ Teach _ . Despite the fact he’s wearing a loose garment, it’s starting to feel awfully _ tight _down there. 

Byleth perches a foot on one of the chairs. “Show me why you’re so popular, then.” Suddenly being naked in a semi-chilly room has given her cold shivers. 

Claude wastes no time in giving her thighs and stomach some reverent kisses, running his lips like feathers over her skin. He brings up a hand to caress her clit while the other reaches up to fondle of one of her breasts. Eventually he puts his mouth properly on her vagina, dividing her lips with his tongue, tasting her and inhaling her natural musk. There’s a soft gasp and he glances towards her face to see her biting her bottom lip.

Moving swiftly, he utilizes his mouth, tongue and hands in an effort to cloud her thoughts to the best of his ability. He continues this for several minutes, two fingers inside of her as he pulls in and out. His lips are wrapped around her clit as he sucks, occasionally letting go to firmly lick her before going back to suck her from a different angle. Byleth does her own part by grinding on his face while her hand returns with its iron-grip in his hair.

Claude feels hungry and primal as he’s pulled into her body. The hand that was on her breast trails down to rake his fingers against the skin of her muscular thigh. He’s about to add a third finger when Byleth forcibly pulls him away. His mouth and chin is covered in her juices, but he gives a cocksure smile. 

“Finding you paid your money’s worth yet, Milady?” 

She hums, “Still too mouthy.” She takes her leg off the chair and hauls him up to make him sit on it. She’s been pulling so hard and frequently on his hair lately he thinks she might give him a bald spot by ripping out his hair at some point. He sits on the chair with a grunt, and Byleth releases him as she walks behind him. 

“Milady—”

There’s a light slap on his face, “I’m appraising the goods I paid for, shut up.”

Her hands go under his tabard, and his taut nipples are suddenly twisted. He rises his hips forward in response.

_ Huh. The chair didn’t move at all. Probably bolted to the ground. Must be a safety procedure. _

Byleth then twists his nipples the other direction. She continues pulling, pinching, tugging and twisting as he squirmed and whimper in the chair. She flicks his nipples with her fingers and he moans loudly.

“You know,” she casually says, “for some reason I figured an experienced whore like you wouldn’t be quite so sensitive.” She’s rewarded with another whimper.

One hand leaves his nipple to trail down to his crotch where she flips the tabard so his penis is on full display. She continues her torment on his other nipple, and he knows she keeps changing up the combination of pulling, pinching, tugging and twisting so he can’t predict what she’ll do next.

_ Devious bitch. I love her. _

She taps his cock with one of her fingers, “Leaking already? Not very good at lasting are you?” 

Her hand envelopes his cock and gives one tug, but it’s enough to make his hips violently shake.

_ “Y-Yes..!” _He screamed, undeterred by any feelings of embarrassment. 

To his dismay, she doesn’t keep jerking him off, instead she just leaves her hand stationary around his cock. A flick on his nipple makes his entire body jump.

“Fuck yourself on my hand.”

He grunts and pants as he begins to lurch his hips forward and backwards to feel that sweet, torturous friction. There’s hot breath that dances across his neck before he feels teeth sink down on his flesh. Byleth sucks and nips at him and Claude belatedly notices the drool coming out his mouth. His nipple fucking _ aches _from her continous ministrations but he relentlessly thrusts in and out her hand and it’s not long before he can feel his release build inside of him. 

“H-Hah…. Milady..” His breath hitches and he sobs when he feels Byleth stop biting him to instead lick the entire length of his neck. “I-I’m… Fffffuck…”

_ I’m drunk. I’m such a greedy drunk on this. On her. On us. Moremoremoremore. I never want to be sober! _

Every fiber of Claude’s body was tingling with intense pleasure and he gives one more hard jerk into Byleth’s hand before cum shoots out of him. He gives four or five healthy splurts before he limply falls back on the chair, panting heavily. Both of Byleth’s hands release their hold and their respective body part, now she lazily rakes her fingers against his chest. Claude twitches and squirms at the sensation.

Eventually, she stopped and sat on the bed, legs wide open. “I _ suppose _that’ll do for you. But not for me, finish me with your mouth.” 

He takes a deep breath through his nose before sliding off the chair and crawling to her. He licks the streams that are rolling down her thigh before putting his face back on her pussy. It only takes a few suckles and licks before she’s cumming on his face, and he happily laps up her fluids. 

She sighs contentedly. “I suppose you’re actually worth the money.”

“Aww, not going to call me a whore again?” he wipes his face with the back of his hand, “Besides, I wouldn’t exactly say you fucked any manners in me, Milady.” 

Before she can make a retort, he stands and walks to the nightstand and picks up a bag. He looks at Byleth with a smirk before he opens it and eats one of the seeds. He can feel the immediately effect rush over him like a raging waterfall, he begins to feel more energized and a few experimental strokes on his cock makes it stand back up at full attention.

It’s a truly bizarre feeling getting erect so soon after ejaculating. He’s not sure he’ll be taking these seeds very often in the future. 

He looks at Byleth and she snorts. 

“You really are a whore.” 

He shrugs, “Well, you _ did _pay alot for my services.” He strolls over to the bed and lays down beside her. “Sit on my face? My tongue’s ready for another round too.”

She doesn’t say anything as she shimmies up the bed and places her sopping wet cunt just above his mouth. Claude opens his mouth and lets his tongue hang out and she lowers herself on top of him. He immediately begins licking and flicking her tongue at her clit, knowing that she must still be sensitive from cumming herself. He feels her thighs tighten around his face when he grabs two fistfulls of her ass. 

He stops his licking for a moment in surprise when he feels a tongue slide over his cock.

_ Fuck, I’m sensitive too. _

Her mouth eventually engulfs his length and she bobs her head up and down when she blows him. He redoubles his efforts on her cunt in attempt to make her cum first but, well, he’d say they’re both evenly matched when it comes to their oral skills. They’ve both had years of experience, of testing their techniques on each other.

They continue using their mouths on each other, but Byleth eventually stops and moves off of Claude, who whines in protest. 

“_ Heeeeeeeeeeey _.” He licks his lips, and tries to grab at her, but she easily escapes him. 

“You look positively debauched.” She says, and cups his cheek with a hand. “You’re a real good whore.” She leans in and nips at his lip, “I bet you want someone to fuck you right now, don’t you?”

Claude is only able to give a low _ nnnnngh _and bucks his hips forward in confirmation. 

She gives his nipple a flick which causes his entire body to tremble and he curses loudly. She chuckles. He can feel her move off the bed and watches her walk into the closet. 

He can take a guess what she’ll take out.

Sure enough, she walks out with a strap-on hanging off her hips and a snakeskin bag of lube. The dildo is hideous. A gaudy red colour. He’s going to send in an official complaint for being forced to see it. 

Nevertheless, he spreads his legs open to welcome her lube coated fingers. When she’s able to fit four fingers in with little to no resistance she aligns the toy against his hole. Claude bends his legs against his chest but snarls when she doesn’t enter him. 

“_ Fuck me. _”

A hand is brought down roughly on his inner thigh, followed by another slap is given dangerously close to his cock and balls. “Manners.”

Claude gasps, his legs suddenly stinging. “M-Milady! Milady, I’m sorry.”

She quirks a single eyebrow at her.

He takes a deep breath and remembers a line from the novel they’re loosely adapting, “P-Please forgive this whore…”

She pinches him where she slapped him and he whimpers. “That’s a good slut.” When she slowly and carefully enters him gives out a long drawn out moan. She strokes his cock once before saying, “I’ve heard your name murmured by many nobles during parties. You’re quite the celebrity. Everyone’s favourite whore. You would happily get fucked by anyone if they gave the right amount of coin wouldn’t you?” 

When he doesn’t immediately answer, and instead just continues moaning, she brings another slap against his thigh, harder this time. Claude wails, “Y-Yes! I would!” 

_ Fuckmefuckmefuckmefuckme. _

“Do they mount you like the dog you are? Parade you around and let you be used by everyone like a shared toy? How much does someone have to pay to use you as a public urinal, hmm? Probably not much.” Her whispers are done with bared teeth, like a predator and so, _ so _ fantastically cruel.

When she’s fully entered him he can feel the precum leaking on his stomach. Rather than completely pound in him like he expects her to, she leans down to wrap her arms around his back and then slowly picks him off the bed. Realizing what she’s doing, he wraps his arms around her neck and his legs around her waist. When she’s fully standing up, her arms drop from his back to the back of his thighs to keep him steady.

And in this position, she’s hitting him _ deep. _

“Hnnnng…Haaah.” Is all Claude is able to work out and he hears Byleth snicker before she bites and sucks at the base of his neck. 

She bounces him up and down. Once. Twice. A third time. Claude throws his head back to give a shrill squeal when she hits his prostate. It feels great, but at the same time he needs _ more. _

“H-Harder,” it’s not much of a demand, as his voice quivers and he needs to pant to catch his breath.

There’s a quick slap on his ass. “Then ask nicely, whore. I paid for the best, not for someone who can barely speak out a word after a few thrusts.”

Claude clenches his teeth before a moan wrecks through his entire body.

“P-Please,” he swallows thickly, throat suddenly dry, “Fuck me h-harder.”

Another slap stings his ass, but he can feel Byleth smile against his neck. “And apologize for being such a greedy slut.” Now he’s intentionally moving him slowly on the toy.

Claude groans as though he’s been shot, driven mad by lust, “Sorry! I-Im a greedy slut!”

She finaly obliges him, fucking him harder; at times she almost completely removes the toy from him with how high she bounces him. She cruelly laughs at his whining.

“Do your clients not fuck your properly? Look at you, ruined so quickly and thoroughly. You’re not a very good toy if you can’t be played with properly. I think I may ask for a refund after this.”

The breath is taken out of him when his back suddenly hits the wall. Rather than bounce him the toy, Byleth holds him against the whole as she bucks her hips in and out. The slapping of their two bodies echoes across the room and the impact of her hips slamming into his ass almost feels like she’s spanking him again. 

“H-Hah! Hnng—Byleth… B-By—mmmph,” he wraps his body around her tighter, almost like he’s afraid he’ll fall to death if he were to let go and she grunts when she reposition herself to fuck him harder. His back rubbing against the wall is an odd sensation, but not unwelcome and his whimpers grow louder.

His release slammed through him, leaving him shaking in her arms and sobbing her name. He came, hard, and Byleth turns her head to gentle lick the tears on his face. Her wet tongue engulfed him, burned him, caressed him. It was an extra sensation to his already oversensitive body and he felt he was in the throes of sweet ecstasy and agony. 

He screamed her name, his nails digging into her back as he arched his back and convulsed through his orgasm.

“Byleth! I’m—_ I’m yours _—!!” 

When he finished spending his seed he leaned his head against the wall panting, shaking and trembling. Byleth slowly exited him, and lowered him to the ground. The second his feet hit the floor, he slides down on his ass. He grunts, and tries to stand up while wiping his face, only for his shaking legs to give out and he falls on his rear again.

_ Well. Okay then. _

He hears a bark of laughter above him. “Well If I managed to fuck the best whore in town until he couldn’t walk, that must mean I’m the best client he’s ever had huh?”

He pouts. “Ha-ha. Very funny,” then he smiles, but his voice is raspy and dry, “Well that was certainly different. I, uh, think we might have torn Damasus’s garment. But I definitely wouldn’t mind trying this again.”

Byleth leans down to put a hand under his legs and his back, picking him up and tenderly placing him on the bed. “We’ll pay for the stitching. And I wouldn’t mind playing this game again. I quite like being called Milady.”

When she finds her spot next to him, he turns to his side to face her.

“You know, I don’t think we kissed once that entire time. We should fix that.”

She suddenly looks deep in thought, “Really? Not once?” 

He wraps his arms around her in a tight hug, though it’s weak considering his entire body is wrecked and exhausted from what he just did. “Kiss me! Mwah!” 

She laughs and obliges him.

And they kiss for a long time.

-

Exactly a week later the brothel is host to a glorious feast for its workers that was organized and paid for by a mysterious anonymous benefactor. Technically two benefactors, but no one sweats the details.

**Author's Note:**

> I suppose I should apologize to those who expect just straight-on smut but instead have to sift through like 4K of build-up/story which may or may not be good lmfao. I guess on that note I'm sorry if my sex scenes are too short. I'm working on it.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who gave prompts on the last story! My current list of stuff to write is as follows, in order:  
1\. Claude gets his bootyhole fingered a whole bunch after being manhandled.  
2\. Second chapter of Flechazo which is basically all-aboard the angst train feat. gentle femdom. Story-heavy.  
3\. Second chapter of With a Golden Collar feat. covert Bad Wyvern fuckings and maybe power-bottom Claude. Don't worry, he'll still be a kitty cat.  
4\. Aphrodisiacs, maybe with rimming and being forced to sit around with a cock ring all day.
> 
> *youtuber voice* like, comment, subscribe :-)


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